"Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. “You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him.
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